


oh, you fill my lungs with sweetness

by littlethiefs



Series: can i be close to you [2]
Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: F/M, but it can be read alone tbh, near smut because like i said before i'm too much of a coward to write actual smut, the last chapter has some near-smut action, this is sickeningly sweet and they're very happy because god they deserve it, this is the second part of my alternate cob ending series, what if nahri and dara went on a date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25581748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs
Summary: nahri's marriage to muntadhir is two weeks away, so what better way to spend some of her last moments as a single woman than going on secret dates with her afshin?
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afsin/Nahri e-Nahid
Series: can i be close to you [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853767
Comments: 19
Kudos: 30
Collections: can i be close to you





	1. Chapter 1

Nahri peered at her reflection from behind the gauzy, shimmery veil covering her face. Her charcoal dress flowed like water to the floor, pooling around her feet with a decadence that made the thief in her catch her breath. A silver chador was draped over her ebony hair, a matching silver headpiece dotted with pearls holding it in place. Despite months of familiarizing herself with royal finery, the extravagance still shocked her, and being here with a soft bed to sleep in, food to eat and jewels galore, sometimes she still felt as if she were dreaming. As if she were an impostor dropped into a life that could never be her own.

“Banu Nahri, the carriage awaits,” came Nisreen’s voice from her bedchamber door. Nahri released a shaky breath, knowing that what she was doing was reckless and utterly foolish. If Ghassan ever found out what she was truly up to, he’d lock her in her room and feed the key to his karkadann. But by the Creator, she would be married in just two weeks. She needed this - a reprieve, if only for a night. 

Lifting the trail of her dress off the ground, Nahri glided out of her doors, through the palace halls and to a carriage waiting for her in the courtyard. It was driven by a Geziri soldier who did not bother greeting her, keeping his steely-gray gaze fixed forward. Nisreen helped Nahri into the carriage before taking a seat beside her. “The Grand Temple, please,” Nahri said to the guard who barely acknowledged the instruction, setting off wordlessly towards the temple. The carriage jostled side to side on the cobbled streets which did nothing to improve the state of Nahri’s nerves.  _ You’re being stupid, behaving like a teenaged fool _ , she kept chiding herself, a mantra she’d been repeating since the idea had sprung up to her mind a few days ago.  _ You’re going to get caught and the little freedom granted to you will be wrested from your fingers _ .

But another part of her desperately wanted this, so here she was, now outside the temple. Nahri dropped lightly from the carriage, fixing her veil. Turning to the Geziri guard, she said with as much polite sweetness she could muster, “I trust Prince Alizayd gave you your instructions.”

“I will leave once you go inside, and will return at dawn once your prayers-” he seethed the word, “-are complete with your companion.” Nahri gave him a nod, thanked him and turned towards the temple. Nisreen would not be accompanying her tonight. She had begged the daeva woman to give her one day of freedom without her shadowing Nahri; it is not like she would be safer anywhere else. Reluctantly, Nisreen had assented; she now gave Nahri a short wave, and Nahri stepped into the temple.

Her heart caught in her throat, all doubts fleeing her thoughts as soon as she saw him. He stood tall with his hands clasped behind his back, wearing a midnight blue coat that fit his shoulders and waist exceptionally well, she noted. He looked different to her, and it took her a moment to realize it was because he had no weapons on his person; she was too used to seeing his silver bow strapped to his back, a khanjar or two hanging from his waist. She approached him, her heart skipping at the sight of a crooked smile playing at his lips, eyes dancing with barely concealed joy at seeing her here in all her daeva finery.

Promptly, Dara dropped to his knees and bowed low before her. Nahri rolled her eyes; she’d told him too many times to count that this wasn’t a custom she was particularly fond of, but her Afshin seemed to like teasing her a little too much. “One of these days you’re going to fall to the floor, and I won’t let you get back up, you know,” she said, leaning down and whispering in his ear.

“Anything for you, Banu Nahida.” His voice was muffled against the floor, but she could hear the smile in his voice. He rose after being told to, Nahri suddenly aware that he was standing too close to her. He could probably see her face through her veil at this distance. She almost reached out and touched him. It had been a while since they’d been in each other’s presence, but Dara simply took two steps back, with that maddening smile still on his lips.

Kartir stepped into the temple entrance from the eastern hall, greeting her with a bow. “May the fires burn brightly for you, Banu Nahida,” he said.

“And you, Kartir,” she returned the greeting. “I know that doing this for me might be going against all your religious instincts, so I thank you for this. Truly, I will not forget it.” Kartir simply inclined his head, and looked between Nahri and Dara.

“I don’t have any idea what you are talking about, Banu Nahri. Are you not here to pray for the success of your marriage?” Kartir smiled knowingly. “Return on time, please, and Afshin? Don’t run off with her. This old man would rather not start his day trying to explain to the Royal Guard how the Banu Nahida disappeared under his nose.”

“You have my word,” Dara replied, bowing his head respectfully. From behind an ivory pillar carved with pictures of shedus and fire altars, he retrieved a bag which he now handed to her. “I cannot have you walking around the streets looking like a royal Nahid, so I ask that you put these on.” 

Nahri looked through the bag, sifting through a plain white cotton robe, a nondescript green headscarf tucked away within its folds. She raised her eyebrows at Dara. “Did you go shopping for me?” She asked, amused by the idea of her Afshin hulking through stores picking out clothing for her. Dara flushed.

“That is neither here nor there. Go,” he gave her back a small push towards what looked like a closet. Nahri opened the door, met with brooms, dustpans and the smell of chemicals. She felt a thrill jolt through her body; this was something lovestruck youths with disapproving parents did, not queens-to-be. Carefully, she removed her royal clothes, slipping out of her dress and donning the clothes Dara had brought her. They fit perfectly. She folded her other clothes neatly in the bag and left it in the closet, wrapping her headscarf as she rejoined Dara.

This time it was him looking at her, studying her face with narrowed eyes, the green of them almost too bright to look at. Every time his gaze lingered on her, Nahri felt as if he was memorizing every feature, every pore of her skin, tucking it away in his memory for moments spent in her absence. It made her want to hold him close, even as she wanted to run from the weight of his undivided attention.

Without a word, he whirled around, beckoning for her to follow. He led her to the back of the temple where a plain, easily missed door stood. He pushed it open, moonlight instantly bathing him in silver light. He descended a short flight of stairs next to which his bow and a dagger sat. Catching up to him, Nahri touched him lightly on the arm, before lifting her leg and showing him the dagger she had hidden away stealthily in her boot.  _ His _ dagger. Dara blinked at her in surprise, then laughed.

“First you sneak around with an unrelated man in the middle of the night, then you bring a hidden weapon into the temple. Scandalous,” he winked.

“I have to live up to my reputation, after all. You can’t forget your roots,” Nahri grinned back wickedly, shoving the dagger back into her boot before straightening back up. “So where are you taking me on this fine evening?” 

“You’ll see,” Dara replied. He turned to face her after securing his weapons, his eyes softening. He reached out and took the loose part of her headscarf in his hands, draping the tail across the lower half of her face. “I do not want to take any risks,” he whispered, standing so close again that she could feel his breath tickling her nose.

Nahri reached up and gave Dara a peck on the lips, the fabric of her scarf still between them. Dara wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her there for a moment before he let her go, only to take her hand. “Let’s go, Banu Nahida,” he said, Nahri’s heart racing with excitement, with thrill and  _ risk _ . “The night is still young.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dara and nahri eat a happy meal.

With her hand clasped tightly within his, Dara and Nahri walked through the bustling streets of the Daeva quarter. For a people so attuned to their history, their faith and their tradition, the daevas Nahri was seeing now weren’t as conservative as she thought they would be. Enchanted lanterns hung in the air emitting warm yellow light, illuminating merchant stalls piled perilously high with daeva caps, woolen trousers and silk veils. Women sat outside their homes playing shatranj, chatting goodnaturedly with cups of warm tea settled besides them, while men smoking pipes laughed raucously at each other’s jokes. The scent of cedar oil and tea leaves wafted through the air, carrying on the chilly night wind. 

Nahri shifted closer to Dara who might as well have been a living, breathing furnace. It was impossible to feel cold standing beside him. “It’s so lively,” she couldn’t help but note. “The Daevas I usually interact with are so-” she trailed off.

“Stuck up?” He finished for her, but he didn’t seem offended by her observation. “The Daevas you interact with have no choice but to be that way; they tiptoe around the djinn king’s palace, barely saying a word, not placing a toe out of line. Centuries of living under an occupation does that to you, I suppose. You learn to hold your breath, only exhaling in the company of your own.” 

“I never thought about it that way,” Nahri murmured, feeling a pang of guilt. For all the time she’d spent at the palace, listening to Nisreen’s beseeching for her to learn more about her own culture, she had never bothered to. But tonight, walking through the streets like one of them as children darted past and the sounds of laughter carried through the air, she felt like she might want to. 

“There is a lot we both have to learn, it seems,” he replied, squeezing her hand. Only then did Nahri begin to notice that the Daevas were looking at the two of them - not quite overtly, but sneaking glances from the corners of their eyes and whispering amongst themselves.

“They’re looking at us,” Nahri hissed under her breath, adjusting the fabric concealing her face.

“So let them,” he responded simply. “They know who I am. Who do you think is going to rebuke me for having a woman on my arm? Most of them are too frightened of me to even breathe in my direction,” he finished, a sadness entering his voice that made her ache for him. Before she could reply however, he stopped outside a shop, its exterior painted a deep blue and silver. He held open the door with a soft, “After you,” and Nahri walked in, unsure of what to expect.

It was a small establishment, but she could immediately tell it was well-respected. Its sand-colored walls were decorated with elaborate markings, the stone floor covered with rugs in shades of navy blue. Wooden tables carved with filigree designs were spaced out, all of them empty. A small Daeva man stood behind a counter, smiling with his eyes fixed on Dara.

“Firoz,” Dara greeted warmly, clapping the man on the back. “I thank you for doing me this favor and keeping your shop empty tonight, my friend.” Nahri took a seat, still looking around. It reminded her of the coffee shop she frequented in Cairo, and she felt a twinge of nostalgia.

“It is my honor, Afshin,” Firoz replied. “May the fires burn brightly for you, Banu Nahida,” he suddenly called to her, and she startled. Dara did not look concerned in the slightest, however, so she decided to respond.

“You are very kind for hosting us,” Nahri replied diplomatically. Dara took a seat opposite her, and she dropped the fabric covering her face, raising an eyebrow in question.

“When Zaydi al Qahtani sacked the Daeva quarter,” he began, and she did not fail to observe his flinch at the memory, “the djinn burned down many buildings. Most businesses did not recover, I assume, because I have not seen any from my memory. This establishment, although it looks much different from my time, belongs to the Dabiris - a family that was always close to mine. Firoz is a descendant of one of my father’s closest friends,” Dara smiled. “I trust him.”

“It’s nice,” she said truthfully. He’d removed his bow and placed it next to his chair, his hands now resting casually on the tabletop. Nahri resisted the urge to reach out and place her own on one of his, to trace the tattoo that began on his left palm. “I’m glad there’s something still left in the city that you recognize.” Dara’s expression went blank for a moment, reminding her of their time journeying to Daevabad when the secrets between them were plenty, the silences long and tense. Even if she missed the physical closeness that existed between them during those weeks, she did not miss that secrecy - and it seemed Dara was in agreement, because his expression cleared, the vacantness replaced with a sad smile.

“So many things have changed,” he replied softly. “I feel as if I am a fool holding onto the things I recognize when so much else is different.”

“It is never foolish to hold onto home,” she said firmly, acting on her impulse and placing her palm over his hand. She had no idea how it must feel, yearning for home for more years than she could even imagine, only to come back and not recognize it.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Dara said after a long pause.

“Ya Dara,” Nahri grinned. “I am always hungry, I thought you knew that by now. Though I suppose it’s too much to hope for kebabs or some lamb here.” Dara shushed her dramatically, and she laughed, suddenly very glad to be here with him. A few moments later, Firoz approached their table holding a platter of food in each hand, placing them gingerly in front of the two. Nahri’s mouth watered at the sight of the spiced rice topped with stuffed olives and nuts, egg scrambled with aromatic herbs and vegetables, and abundant torshi piled into a bowl.

Nahri grabbed a fork and dug in immediately. She let out an undignified groan of pleasure and with her mouth stuffed with an olive, she looked at Firoz and said, “It’s delicious.” The Daeva man turned scarlet, tears suddenly springing to his eyes. Nahri looked at him, baffled and wide-eyed before she realized Dara was looking at  _ her _ , amused.

“What?” she scowled. He reached out a hand and touched the corner of her mouth.

“You eat like a hooligan,” he said fondly, now wiping his thumb on a washcloth. 

“And you eat like you’re on stage and everyone’s watching,” she snapped, stuffing a sour pickle in her mouth. “Which is how  _ I _ usually eat at the palace, because everyone  _ does _ watch.”

“Eat however you want, my love.” At his casual use of the endearment, Nahri’s stomach lurched, but she kept her face impassive. He would not reduce her to a blushing mess, not so soon into the night. 

They finished their food in between languid conversation about everyday things, Nahri for once feeling like someone ordinary. They spoke of her life in the palace, Dara throwing back his head and laughing when Nahri confided that she sometimes envied Princess Zaynab for she had much larger, much  _ shinier _ jewels than Nahri herself did. She talked about one of her servants who was still so nervous in her presence that she squeaked every time Nahri spoke, and how the palace seemed to call out to her when she took long walks through its corridors and gardens. He told her about living with the Pramukhs, an affectionate note in his voice whenever he spoke of Jamshid that made Nahri feel a surge of affection for Dara in turn. Of praying at the Grand Temple, speaking of history and faith with the priests there, of going to the Grand Bazaar and making conversation with djinn who would speak with him. When Nahri mentioned her Arabic lessons with Ali, Dara pursed his lips.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, already knowing the answer but he wasn’t the only one who could tease the other. 

“Little Zaydi looks at you in a way I like not,” he said. “His eyes linger too long, which is rich considering you are betrothed to his older brother.”

“Oh, are you jealous?” Nahri raised her eyebrows at him, enjoying the way he frowned. It baffled her that someone who looked like  _ him _ could be jealous, but she also remembered the pang of annoyance she felt every time someone looked at Dara too appreciatively.

“I am not jealous,” he muttered into his cup of wine before he downed it. “But if he ever bothers you, tell me and I will gladly break his nose. Or something else. I have done it before,” a wicked gleam crossed his eyes.

“If he ever bothers me, I’ll break something myself,” Nahri responded innocently. “Besides, I have eyes for only one man in Daevabad.” Dara blinked at her, flushing at her meaning before she continued, “I mean, just look at Firoz. He’s making me feel things.” Dara plucked an olive from the plate and tossed it at her and she let out a peal of laughter.

“Rude girl,” Dara said, his eyes dancing with mirth.

They paid for their meal, which was a bigger hassle than Nahri ever thought possible. With his eyes still shining with tears of awe, Firoz had refused payment until Nahri had commanded him to accept it, using all her authority as a Nahid to make sure a kind person received the payment he deserved. Emerging into the cold night, Nahri was surprised to find that the streets had mostly cleared of their previous hustle and bustle. It was nearing midnight, and dawn was just a few hours away.  _ I do not want this night to end _ , she thought to herself fiercely, taking Dara’s hand in her own.

“Would you like to take a walk?” she asked him, moving her headscarf’s fabric back into place over her face.

“Of course I would, and I know just the place,” he said.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another time, another cave.

Silently, he led her through the now quiet streets dotted with the occasional merchant packing up his wares for the day. Despite the chill and the quietness of her surroundings, Nahri felt completely at ease with Dara; she could tell, even if he barely let on, that he had scanned every crevice of the area, every rooftop and window for threats. Even when he walked he did so positioned slightly in front of her, gripping her hand tightly within his, the other place casually on the hilt of his knife. Her Afshin.

As he led her towards the outskirts of the Daeva quarter, Nahri began to feel a trickle of anticipation. She had never ventured far from the palace, but this was an area she didn’t even know existed. It was a forest, its trees ancient, the grass overgrown. They crossed from a well-maintained strip of grass onto a trail overflowing with fallen leaves, and all the stories Nahri had heard during her time in the human world came rushing back to her. Monsters in the trees, dark spirits coming to snatch you away should you venture too deep into the woods.

“You couldn’t have picked a better spot?” She asked, her voice a whisper. Dara looked down at her, surprised at the small edge of fear in her voice and snapped his fingers: two orbs of light sprang into being before her, illuminating the path in front of her.

“Does that help?” He whispered back. It did, in fact, and Nahri could now see beyond the gnarled branches of the looming trees. The forest chirped with the sound of insects, flowers of all colors dotting the shrubbery. Leaves crunched beneath their feet as they walked the dark trail, but it seemed as if Dara was taking her some place specific, moving with a purpose. 

“I used to come here all the time as a child,” Dara suddenly broke their comfortable silence. “My cousins and I would sneak away from the adults and come play in the woods, too young at the time to do anything but build makeshift bows and shoot sticks at each other to try and emulate our fathers and grandfathers.” He smiled at the memory and Nahri smiled with him, even as she felt a pang of sadness for herself and for him. She’d never had a childhood like that, one where other children would play with her - let alone family, and he’d never known a childhood where he could be anything he wanted; it seemed Dara had always been destined to follow a path of war and blood, even as a knobby-kneed child sifting through sticks to use as crude weapons.

They approached a hill covered with overgrown, wild purple flowers and Nahri followed Dara’s gaze up before she realized what she was seeing. It looked like a jumble of rocks, but upon squinting, Nahri saw its depth and realized it was a crumbling cave. A rush of heat filled her cheeks, very aware that Dara had brought her to a cave and what they had been doing the last time they’d been in one together. She said nothing, just letting him help her up the trail which looked like this particular path hadn’t been traveled in years. Nahri stumbled, lacking the casual grace the warrior daeva beside her had, but he steadied her with ease, and soon they were standing in the yawning mouth of a small cave.

“I thought some privacy would be nice,” Dara grinned at her, moving towards the entrance. Nahri turned and looked behind her, surprised at the height they’d covered, the tops of many trees spread out below her. In the distance she could see the flickering lights of the city, the domes silhouetted against the inky blue sky. Her warm breath came out in small puffs as she breathed heavily from the walk, not having had much exercise since she’d arrived in Daevabad. She wanted to sit here for as long as she wanted with Dara by her side, and she could feel a prick of tears in her eyes at the thought of the limited time they had. She blinked away the wetness. She would not fall apart at the thought of her future, the thought of loving Dara in secret for the rest of her life. She would not.

Turning on her heels, Nahri entered the cave and found Dara sitting against the back wall, his head resting against the stone. It was colder in here but he had conjured a fire - which wasn’t quite necessary, because Nahri made straight for Dara, wrapped one of his arms around her and tucked in close. The reminder that the night was almost over was enough for her to get over any reservations or shyness she was harboring. Dara let out a sharp exhale of surprise, but then gripped her tightly, pressing a soft kiss to her brow.

“What is this place?” She asked finally, wanting to hear his voice tell another tale.

“It has a long history, and was a place frequented often by our people in my time. A Nahid ascetic came here to pray for survival from a famine, so it was considered blessed. It was popular among couples who had hopes of conceiving a child.” Nahri almost laughed.

“‘Hopes of conceiving a child?’” She asked him in mock teasing, knowing having children with him wasn’t possible anyway. But without warning, she shifted and took a seat on his lap, straddling his hips and facing him. Dara was too startled to do anything but look at her, lips apart, even his hands held aloft in the air in his alarm. Carefully unsheathing the dagger strapped inside her boot, she held up the blade playfully to Dara’s cheek. “Is that what your plan is, you wicked man?”

“Wh- what?” Dara stammered, stiffening from embarrassment. “N- no.” Suleiman’s eye, she did not know she possessed the power to reduce him to such a bumbling mess. 

“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” she whispered, the smoke and citrus scent of him intoxicating her senses as it always did. Dara’s eyes darkened at her words, both of his hands now on her hips, her dagger still pressed lightly to his cheek. One of Dara’s hands trailed up from her waist to the back of her neck, and he hooked his finger in the knot of her headscarf. 

“May I?” his voice was hoarse, and something stirred deep in her belly. At her nod, Dara deftly undid the knot and her hair fell in wild curls around her head. He took a strand, wrapping it around his fingers and pulling her face closer.

“Should anyone find us like this, they would execute us here and now, Banu Nahida,” he whispered against her skin.

“There are worse ways to die, Afshin.” One of his hands slid under her dress, his feverishly hot palm tracing the line of her leg, her knee, her thigh— and her hand slipped. Dara hissed softly, more in surprise than pain, a shallow bloodless gash appearing on his cheek. Nahri gasped in apology, the knife clattering to the floor. Immediately touching his face with both hands, Nahri called upon her magic, and the skin stitched together within seconds. “I’m sorry.”

He grabbed a hand in one of his as she was about to pull it away, pressing it against his cheek, the other still resting maddeningly on her thigh. “Try not to play that game with the emir, little thief,” he teased, a small smile on his lips but she could sense the sadness under his words. She felt it too, and a silence descended upon them as they sat there in the darkness, contemplating their actual futures and the future they both wanted but could not have.

“Sometimes I wish I’d run away with you,” she said finally, voicing a desire that she knew was foolish. Selfish. But a desire that burned deep within the crevices of her heart anyway when she pictured traveling with him on a carpet, drinking wine and gazing upon lost ruins. She could take him back to Cairo. He could meet Yaqub, and she would tell him this ferocious warrior was her husband to ease his badgering.

“Sometimes I am tempted to try my hand at it again,” he confessed, pushing back a lock of hair from her face. “But I know this is beyond the both of us now, and you made a compelling argument that night.” He paused, a finger now caressing her cheek. “Ah, but it does break my heart to picture you married to another man.” 

“A sham,” she breathed. “Besides, think of the thrill of sneaking into my room when the world is asleep. It’s time you started breaking some rules too, Afshin.” It wasn’t truly a comfort, but she hated how sad he looked at that moment, so she said the words with a soft smile. But he knew her too well, and he saw right through it.

“When I was young, I dreamed of living a quiet life in a small house near the chilly hills of northern Daevastana with a woman that never had a face. I had abandoned that dream a long time ago, but now I see it again. It is cruel how far, how impossible it has always been for me to reach it. Worse now because... the woman has a face now,” he murmured, voice so low she almost had trouble hearing it. 

“That sounds like a good dream,” she said, tracing the line of his jaw. “I would have liked to live it with you.”

Suddenly, he met her eyes in the darkness, the firelight throwing shadows against the stone walls. “You are  _ everything _ to me,” came his soft confession, sending Nahri’s heart lurching to her throat. “And I will follow you to the end of my days.”

She couldn’t hold herself any longer, the oath leaving her breathless with the conviction of it. She pressed herself against him, crushing their lips together, her hands slipping over his broad shoulders and tracing the slope of his back. One reached up and tangled in his hair, and he gasped when she pulled his head back and pressed her lips to his throat. “Enough talk for now, my love. This time of night does strange things to me,” she smiled at his noisy exhale, before the hand perched upon her thigh moved further up, taking the folds of her dress with it.

“Nahri, I think we have done this before,” he mumbled against her lips, gesturing at the stone walls. He deftly removed her clothing before she helped him do the same.

“We were so rudely interrupted before,” she said hoarsely as they both broke apart to look at each other. She watched his eyes take in the soft curves of her hips, the lines of her collarbones, the sheen of sweat glistening on her skin as his warmth burned her. He pressed a kiss to her shoulder, sending a shiver down her spine. His arms slid under her thighs as he trailed kisses down her body, repositioning her as he did until she was on her back, watching his descent. A kiss on each of her ribs, a kiss on her belly, and-

“Dara,” she cried out, a hand gripping his hair. Then, she was undone.

After, as dawn crept upon them, they gathered their clothes by the orange glow of the fire, stealing kisses while putting them on. Dara took her hand once again as they descended the cliff, early birdsong carrying over the air. They traced their steps back through the forest into the Daeva quarter, the city deathly still in the early hours of the morning. Soon - too soon - they were outside the temple, sneaking through the back gardens, trying not to make a sound. 

As they leaned against the temple wall beside the back door, Dara pulled her into an embrace and she clutched him close, wondering if his scent lingered upon her skin. “When will I see you again,” she mumbled into his shoulder, not willing to let go quite yet.

“I do not know,” he said back, touching her waist. “They do not want me anywhere around you before your wedding, so perhaps then. In two weeks.” Nahri closed her eyes, checking her tears as they threatened to spill over yet again. “But do not worry, Banu Nahida. We will make this work. I swear it to you. You will be seeing me so much, you will soon tire of me,” he smiled.

_ Never _ , Nahri thought to herself, but kept quiet. With one last kiss, she left her Afshin leaning against the wall, the first rays of the sun bleeding into the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading if you made it to the end. <3


End file.
